Rosamund and I had been planning to sail up Loch Fyne since we first arrived in the Firth of Clyde in 2015, but the opportunity had evaded us.  Now we had both the time and a weather break to get to that cherished Oyster Bar at the head of the loch or so we thought…

We left Ardnishaig mid-morning in much calmer seas than our new sailing friends had  experienced the day before*.  We had a lovely sail up Loch Fyne for 3 hours reaching almost Inveraray before we had to take the mainsail down and motor the rest of the way. We picked up one of the Oyster Bar moorings  about half  a mile from the head of the lake and took the dinghy the rest of the way, leaving her on a beach at high tide.  We had read that it was not straightforward to get to the restaurant.  This was no exaggeration as we had to find sticks and hack our way through the undergrowth to find the road and eventually the restaurant.  The effort was worth it.  The food was wonderful and we were also able to stock up on good bread and fish at the deli.

We made good progress with a SE wind until we approached Inveraray (left).  Right: the head of the Loch with the Loch Fyne Oyster Bar the white blob in the far distance.

By the time we left it was getting dark – it was now after the equinox and we were noticing how the sun was setting significantly earlier each evening.  While we had been relaxing in the restaurant, the tide had left our dinghy high and dry – almost 2 cables from the waterline.  Ros commented later that it rather detracted from the wonderful experience having to lift the dinghy through the mud so far.  Ever the optimist, I said, “at least it’s firm, we could be sinking up to our knees!”, but was secretly thinking I should have brought my waders as a precaution. Even when we reached the water’s edge, the water was so shallow we had to wade another cable before Ros could get in.  Then I had to row for a while until I had the depth to get the outboard started.

Clockwise from top left – hacking through the undergrowth to get to the restaurant (dinghy at high tide in the distance); Ros with her oysters; the view from the restaurant down the loch to where Milo was moored and looking back to the restaurant when we eventually got the dinghy back to the waterline

The next day there would be no wind and the tide turned early,  so by 7:15am we’d slipped our mooring and were gently motoring SW through the morning mist.  As we approached  Inveraray we could see that we were experiencing more than an early morning mist – the promised sunny day did not materialise – instead we headed into a full thick sea fog and I had to get Rosamund up from below to stand on the foredeck with the foghorn.

The changing views of Inveraray in the mist

Ros with the foghorn on the foredeck

The calm sea was mirror-like and, as the mist was patchy, it led to some very interesting reflections.  The mirror-like sea also meant we saw several schools of porpoises passing us, which we might normally have missed. We’d mentioned before that one of the things we both like about sailing is the unexpected and this was certainly that and a fine substitute for the expected sunny day.

Leaving one sea mist behind us

Beautiful reflections created by the calm sea

The scary moments were nearly running into marker buoys and fish farms.  The chart plotter was a godsend, but not being able to see more than 100m at times was unnerving – suddenly 5 knots seemed very fast.

Portavadie Spa – when we last visited, there was a beautiful view – this time just sea mist

Our safe arrival at Portavadie Marina in the mist was largely down to satellite navigation.  The Portavadie spa, with its infinity and hydro pools and sauna were most welcome after our cold misty start.

Safely berthed in Portavadie Marina.  It was sunny over land, but at sea, as can be seen in the distance, it was still misty

* When we looked at the Marine Traffic website, we realised that Whisper had left Otter Ferry very early the morning we enter Loch Fyne and was tacking toward Largs, so we would not meet them at the restaurant that night after all.  It was only later (see their comment on our “Crinan Again” blog) that we learned that their starter motor had burnt out and they had to head for their home port as soon as possible while the winds lasted. I’m pleased to say they made it. And I’d thought they were just sailing enthusiasts!!

Although the weather was atrocious, the trip through the Crinan Canal gave us both shelter, a safe passage through to the Firth of Clyde, the opportunity to meet new people and learn that one day we could return to the Crinan with the grandchildren and get them to operate the locks.

Map showing the locks from Crinan to Cairnbaan in reverse numerical order: locks 14 to 9 were going up and 8 to 2 going down – with sea locks either end.  We berthed the first night at Cairnbaan after going down through lock 5 .

On the way, we were “paired” with Anthony and his friend Peter in “Whisper” a 40 foot Malo – a bit like a Hallberg Rassy.  Anthony was on a three-month sabbatical and had been sailing extensively round the Outer Hebrides with different crew – including his own family for a period of 6 weeks. We had both engaged Hugh Kirk to operate the locks for us as we needed two crew on the boat to handle the fore and aft lines and the fenders.  The gusting wind was quite problematical at times, and so was the swirling water in the locks on the way up.

Going up

Coming down

Wind forecast for Friday 22nd and Saturday 23rd

Rosamund in her yellow waterproof on the way up (top left) and on the way down (bottom left) when it was calmer with more opportunity for conversation.  The wind forecast (right) shows why we chose to remain in the basin at Ardrishaig the next day

By the end of the first day, Friday 22nd September, we were over the top and had arrived in Cairnbaan, having passed through lock 5 (four down from the top) – only four more now to go before entering the Firth of Clyde. We all got thoroughly wet – Ros going through two sets of clothes.  This was compensated for by us all indulging ourselves in gins and tonic and having a meal at the Cairnbaan Hotel. None of us had intended eating there but the gins and tonic led to tales of sailing adventures and life in general.

Hugh Kirk with the children

Then the children on their own

The children from “Strike 3” were very keen to help

Next day we were soon down the three locks into the basin – it was a bit of a squash and a squeeze as they crammed three yachts into a space where only two were comfortable.  The third yacht, Strike 3,  had two families with four children, who were all very keen to help with the lock gates and seemed to know much more than we did about it.  It made Rosamund & I keen to try with the grandchildren one day. The main problem was on board the yachts – trying to stop the boats banging into one another as the winds were very strong.  I could see Anthony getting more and more exasperated – I knew he was keen to get out to sea and away from this land-locked experience.

Milo safely berthed in the basin at Ardrishaig, with Whisper and Strike 3 waiting for the swing bridge to open to let them into the sea lock.  By the time they left they were both pitching into very rough seas.

Rosamund & I berthed Milo in the basin where we would wait until the next day to emerge from the sea lock.  Anthony and Peter were not so reticent and wanted to leave ASAP.  I followed their progress round the lighthouse where they turned to head into both wind and waves to exit the bay.  They were pitching so much in the waves that I could see her keel at times.  I did not envy them.  Later, on Marinetraffic.com, I followed their progress up Loch Fyne.  They had said they wanted to visit the Oyster Bar at the head of the Loch, but half way up the Loch they turned back and were clearly enjoying their sail as the they went up and down the loch several times before anchoring off Otter Ferry for the night, sheltered from the SE wind by the spit.  Perhaps we’d meet them at the Oyster bar the next night after all.